


Into the Night

by DeutchRemy



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Jancy (minimal), Jopper (eventual), Mileven (minimal), Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, teeny tiny mentions of Mileven sprinkled here and there, will eventually delve into Jopper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeutchRemy/pseuds/DeutchRemy
Summary: Yet another "after the gate" story, this time from Joyce's POV.  Heavy on the Hopper & El father-daughter relationship as well as Joyce & Will and Joyce & El.  Please review!!!!
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers & Will Byers, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Will Byers & Eleven | Jane Hopper
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

I wake up disoriented. I hadn’t expected to fall asleep; the fact that I did is a testament to my exhaustion - physical, mental, emotional.

The room is surprisingly silent considering the fact that it’s currently host to ten other people, the little boy sleeping in my arms included.

What in the hell time is it? I crane my neck to look at the VCR, the yellow digital numbers of the clock oddly comforting, somehow normalizing the situation, as though we all just fell asleep watching a movie. 

2:56 AM. 

I let out a shaky sigh of relief; it’ll be light soon.

I have to pee. I don’t want to relinquish my hold on my son, nor do I want to wake up the other occupants of the living room, and I certainly don’t have a burning desire to walk through a dark hallway all by myself, but the pressure in my bladder is verging on painful.

I crane my neck again in the direction of the TV, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, then slowly sit up, hoping to get the lay of the land so I can avoid stepping on anybody.

The floor is strewn with people, as well as blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags, all dragged in hours earlier from mine and the boys’ closets. Will and I are sharing the single twin mattress. I’d originally tried to insist that Hopper and El - the latter of whom could barely lift her head from the former’s shoulder when they arrived back at the house - take the mattress, but Hopper had refused. 

Everyone had fallen asleep much faster than I had anticipated. There had been roughly a half hour of excited chatter and more than a few tears before the kids began dropping off one by one, the adrenaline wearing off and exhaustion taking hold.

I push myself up slowly from my sitting position and stand, hoping not to wake Will, who had amazingly remained asleep as I disentangled myself from him. I can’t believe how peacefully he’s sleeping after what he just went through; his breathing is quiet and even and he hasn’t moved an inch since he drifted off. 

I wobble a bit as I stand on the mattress and look for an empty spot on the rug to step onto. I find one between two shapes who I think are Dustin and Lucas and proceed to tiptoe my way through the minefield of kids and teens.

I walk down the hall to the bathroom and turn on the light, wincing as the sudden brightness makes my eye sockets throb. I empty my bladder as quickly as I can, anxious to get back to my son.

A shot of adrenaline courses through my veins as I anticipate turning off the bathroom light. I’d quickly adjusted to the brightness and am not ready to be plunged back into darkness. 

I haven’t always been afraid of the dark.

I opt instead to leave the light on and keep the door ajar, just enough to illuminate my way back down the hallway.

I make my way through the crowd of people once again, making sure I check carefully for any outstretched kid hands or feet that might be in my path.

I settle back down with Will and take him in my arms, burying my nose in his freshly-washed hair and thinking, as I drift off, that he smells like he did as a newborn.

*********

Light is streaming through the windows when I wake up next. The living room is still eerily quiet though the occupants are showing signs of consciousness, with the occasional rustle of blankets being the first sign of wakefulness as kids roll over and toss restlessly.

I sit up and survey the landscape, anxious to make sure everyone is still present and accounted for. After what we’ve all just been through, I think I’m justified in wanting to get a headcount, especially when other people’s children are involved. 

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are to the left of the mattress. Despite my best efforts, their sleeping arrangements aren’t the most comfortable - the only padding between them and the rug is a queen sized comforter I dragged from my closet - but it doesn’t seem to have affected their ability to sleep in any way. I've always envied boys for that trait. I can’t help but smile when I notice that all three boys are on their left side, in the exact same position - knees drawn up towards their bellies, heads resting on their left arms, right hands hidden beneath the blankets. One of them farts, then - probably Dustin - and I’m glad that the other two aren’t awake to heckle him for it.

Nancy and the girl I only just met last night, Max, I think, are sleeping behind me on the couch. Each girl is resting her head on an armrest, their feet meeting in the middle. They share a light throw blanket with an afghan on top for extra warmth.

Hopper and Eleven are to my right. I’d insisted that if they weren’t going to take the mattress then I’d give them extra blankets with which to cushion the floor. Hop agreed to that, clearly wanting to keep El as comfortable as possible, and even placed his jacket under her for extra padding. He’s sleeping on his left side and El is curled up against his back, stuck to him like a barnacle, her face pressed into the fabric of his shirt. She’s breathing through her mouth and she looks like a baby with her tiny upturned nose.

My older baby boy is sprawled out in the recliner next to the sofa, one hand thrown over his eyes, a blanket clinging weakly to his lap. His proximity to the couch and the position of his other hand make me wonder if he and Nancy had been holding hands at one point. Has my little boy found his first girlfriend?

Steve Harrington, the teenager with the hair who I think is Nancy’s ex-boyfriend, is asleep in the other recliner, looking like a truck hit him. A bag of formerly-frozen peas is on his belly, having come to rest there once the kid got too tired to hold it to his head. 

The boy trio wakes up first and at roughly the same time; years of friendship and sleepovers must have synched them pretty well with one another. Will remains asleep in my arms, though, requiring more rest than his friends.

They begin to whisper among themselves:

"What time is it?" Lucas.

"I dunno, I can't see the clock." Mike.

"It's getting light out." Dustin.

"I have to pee." Mike.

"Do you think Mrs. Byers has stuff for breakfast?" Dustin.

"I dunno but I'm hungry." Lucas.

A loud and angry "Shhhhh!" comes from the couch, and I turn my head to see Nancy glaring at the boys.

Mike rolls his eyes and lies silently for a few minutes, as though he’s thinking hard, before throwing the comforter off, eliciting a “Hey!” from Lucas.

“Sorry, just gotta pee.” Mike whispers, before he notices my eyes are open, and whispering politely “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Byers. Um…how’s Will?” He gestures to the boy I’m spooning.

“He’s doing okay. How about you, Mike?”

“I’m okay. Hungry, I guess. And I gotta pee.” He motions awkwardly down the hall towards the bathroom.

Dustin and Lucas are unable to get back to sleep and spend the next few minutes rolling around restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Dustin, your elbow keeps poking me! Move over!” Lucas complains, giving the other boy a light shove.

“Oh my god, could you guys please just be quiet?” A feminine voice whispers from the couch. I look up and see that the redheaded girl is glaring down at the boys.

“Easy for you to say, you’re on a nice squishy couch and you’re not being elbowed by Dustin.” Lucas retorts.

“Can everyone please shut up?” Nancy again. “It’s six in the morning for god’s sake.”

“Sorry.” Max says sheepishly.

“No no not you, it’s those idiots I’m talking to. If they don’t shut up they’re gonna wake up Will and Eleven. They’re exhausted and need their sleep.” Nancy whispers fiercely.

Just then Hopper snorts himself awake. The first thing he does after he gets his bearings is reach behind himself and pat El, making sure she’s there. He then moves forward a bit so he can roll over without squashing the girl. She’s still fast asleep so he leaves her be, wanting her to get as much rest as possible, but not before running the backs of his fingers lightly down her cheek.

“She okay?” Mike asks, returning from the bathroom and kneeling next to El. He plays it safe, getting as close to her as he can but keeping his knees on the carpet instead of letting them rest on the folded-up blanket she’s using as a bed. He reaches out a hand to touch her; Hopper bats it away gently but impatiently.

“Don’t touch. She needs to sleep.”

I never knew Sarah, so my first ever glimpse of protective daddy Hop was last night when he and El returned to the house.

********** 

He was carrying her like he’d carried Will to the car that night, but this was different. His whole demeanor had changed. He was clutching the girl to him as though one might clutch a treasure, his right arm under her rear end, his left hand resting on the back of her neck.

He was in tears and El was so limp and for a moment I felt my limbs go cold, feared the worst. Then I walked around behind him to look at the girl’s face and noticed her left fist clenching and unclenching in the back of his jacket and the pressure in my chest subsided. Her face and Hop’s shoulder and neck were covered in blood, most dried and flaking, some fresh and oozing sluggishly from both nostrils.

A spot was vacated on the couch and Hop sat down, settling the girl on his lap.

The room was totally silent save for El’s congested breathing and Hop’s wet sniffles. Nancy ran to the kitchen to fetch a damp dish towel.

She handed it to me and I thanked her, then sat down next to the emotional man on the couch, hip to hip. Never before had I seen him so upset. It was frightening. I placed a hand on his back.

“Hop? Hop, she’s okay. El’s okay.” I told him gently.

He didn’t look at me but replied, “I - I know, I just...” He trailed off, looking down at the girl, his lower lip trembling, barely able to stop his face from contorting in his grief. A tear ran down his face and dangled from the tip of his nose. He was repeatedly running a hand down the back of the girl’s slicked-down hair, over and over again, as though the motion would keep people from looking at his face. He finally let the hand come to rest at the back of her neck.

I completely understood. While she was alive and breathing with a strong pulse she must have given him quite the scare earlier. He must have thought he was going to lose her. He hasn’t told me the complete story of their life together this past year - we didn’t exactly have time to discuss it - but it’s pretty damn clear he loves the little girl. Losing Sarah was something that he never recovered from; losing another girl he viewed as his daughter would likely be catastrophic for him.

I glanced back at Nancy and then at the group of kids who had ceased their chattering and were now staring at the most recent arrivals. Ever the smart girl, the elder Wheeler got the message and with Steve’s help, herded the curious children into the kitchen. Even Mike, whose feelings about Eleven were quite well-known, was so stunned by her current state that he allowed himself to be led away without complaint. 

I turned my attention back to Hopper and El, giving the man a squeeze on the bicep before focusing on the girl. Her cheek was pressed against Hopper’s shoulder, her eyes closed. Her lips were parted just enough for her to breathe, as her nostrils were likely plugged with blood.

When I touched her face with the dish towel she whined a bit and although my heart clenched at the pitiful sound I was relieved that she was responding.

“Sweetie, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” I comforted as I did my best to clean her face of the blood, lifting her head from Hopper’s shoulder as gently as I could. “Can you open your eyes for me? Just for a second?” She did as I asked and I smiled at her. “There they are, those beautiful brown eyes of yours.” Beautiful, but weary, I thought to myself. 

As I dabbed the warm cloth around her mouth I was reminded of cleaning chocolate icing from Will’s mouth on his fifth birthday, or wiping Jonathan’s mouth free of pizza sauce when he was three. It's an action I hadn't performed in years but one that a mother never forgets. She whined again, louder this time and more anguished. My heart broke. "I know, baby, I know." I glanced at Hop and our eyes met briefly before his began welling up with fresh tears and he averted his gaze, focusing on the girl in his arms. “Hop and I are gonna take care of you, okay?” I could feel my throat closing up but I didn’t bother to fight back my tears. I’d already cried multiple times over the past few days - what could once more hurt?

The girl gave a tiny nod in response before burying her face into Hopper’s neck and letting out a harsh, shuddering sigh.

Hop rubbed her back, trying his best to soothe her.

Then he asked me in a shaky breath, “Will?”

“He’s fine. It’s out. Jonathan’s giving him a bath.”

“This one could use a bath, too.” He cracked a smile for the first time that night but it faded quickly. “How are you holding up?”

Oh god. Don’t think about Bob. Don’t think about Bob. Don’t think about Bob…

“Hop, I think for the time being the best thing I can do is stay occupied.” God, change the subject, change the subject. “Now, uh, why don’t you take El into my room? I’ll help you get her undressed and she can take a bath after Will.”

The man nodded and stood up, holding the girl to his chest. I followed them down the hall and shut the door of my bedroom behind us.

Hopper sat down at the foot of my bed and placed El once again on his lap. It was as though he was afraid to let her go. Like if he did she might disappear in a cloud of ashes, as the boys attest to her doing in the classroom last year. Hop probably figured that if he was holding her and she went poof, he’d go poof with her.

I was able to get a better look at her - at both of them - without being surrounded by the prying eyes of middle-schoolers. Her makeup had been largely smudged away and her hair was beginning to spring free of the gel that was holding it down.

She spoke, then, for the first time that night.

“D-don’t…feel good.”

“I know, kid. I know. I gotcha. I’m right here.” Hop turned his head so he could kiss her on the temple and then began to rock, slowly and gently, from side to side.

“We’re gonna get you into a bath, sweetheart.” I told her, placing a hand on her back and bending over so I was at her level. “As soon as Will’s done. And we’ll get you into some nice warm pajamas and you can go to sleep, okay?”

“Tired.”

“Take a nap on me, kid. Just close your eyes, go to sleep, okay? You’ve earned it. You did such a good job tonight and I am so proud of you, and now it’s our turn to take care of you.”

She dropped off, then, waking up briefly as we undressed her and again as Hop lowered her into a warm bubble bath. Anxious and a bit confused, she whined as soon as her behind touched the hot water, but calmed when Hop rubbed a soapy hand between her shoulder blades. She remained awake throughout most of the bath and even tilted her head back when I rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, but Hop rolled up his pants and sat with his feet in the tub for the duration so El could lean back against his legs.

My mind kept drifting to Will. Despite my wishes for him to sleep in my bed, he had insisted on sleeping in the living room with his friends. I was worried that the other boys might get too excited to have him back and inadvertently hurt him or stress him out. I mentally slapped myself for thinking such a thing - those boys love him like he’s their brother - but as a mom it’s my job to worry.

I excused myself for a moment to check on them and found them all sitting on the living room floor, whispering quietly among themselves, as Will had apparently fallen asleep on the couch with his head on Jonathan’s knee. I considered dragging some blankets and pillows out of the closets and tossing them onto the floor for the kids to lay on, but didn’t want to wake Will, so crept back down the hall towards the bathroom.

I opened the door just as Hop was about to exit, a towel-wrapped girl in his arms. She was awake, though barely.

“Hop, there’s a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants for her on my bed.” I said, trotting along behind him as he hurried her back into my room, probably not too keen on the idea of the boys seeing her in such a state. "She could probably fit into a pair of Will's underpants..."

"Uh, no. No, thanks, Joyce."

I get it. He doesn't want his girl wearing a boy's underpants. Just figured I'd offer since mine would be too big for her, though I doubt he'd have taken me up on that offer even if we were the same size.

Later, when she was dressed in Will's t-shirt and sweatpants and back on Hop’s lap on my bed I managed to get some apple juice into her. It was barely even eight ounces but she vomited it up, and nothing else, several minutes later. Hopper muttered something that sounded like “Nothing in her belly…” and sighed, then began to clean her face with the washcloth I offered him. 

“It’s okay, sweetie.” I tried to comfort the child (and dad, by extension) as I quickly pulled the soiled shirt over her head and replaced it with a clean one. “See, no big deal. Just a bit of throw up, it happens.”

“Tired.” The girl finally vocalized. She burrowed her face into Hopper’s chest but oddly didn’t close her eyes, choosing instead to keep them open and staring straight ahead.

“You ready to sleep, kid?”

She nodded into his chest.

"Close your eyes, El."

“Will wants to sleep in the living room with his friends so you two can take my bed if you want.” I suggested.

“No. We all should be together tonight. Just in case.”

I felt a twinge of nausea at his words. Just in case? The gate’s closed. Right? Is my boy not out of the woods? Are the demodogs not all dead? 

He noticed the look on my face and held up a hand to stop my train of thought.

“Look. The gate’s closed. There’s nothing that’s going to come and hurt us. That said, after everything we’ve all just been through, I’d just feel more comfortable knowing that there aren’t any walls separating any of us tonight.”

I lowered myself down next to him on the bed and visibly deflated with relief. He placed his free hand on my back and rubbed it up and down.

“Relax, Joyce.” He muttered. “Everything’s okay now.”

I found it rather amusing to be comforted by the man who, for the past hour, had been worrying himself to tears over the little girl in his arms. The little girl who, up until earlier tonight, none of us even knew was still alive, let alone living with him.

He stood, then, taking El with him. “Alright, let’s figure out our sleeping arrangements.”

**********

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The kids - well, the ones who are awake - are all seated at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. They’re all surprisingly quiet, and - I'm not going to lie - I'm a little concerned about how they're coping with recent events. I don't know what went on down in those tunnels, but I'm sure it has the potential to induce nightmares for years to come.

I’m at the stove preparing oatmeal when Lucas startles me with his words.

“Mrs. Byers, Dustin’s crying.”

“I am not!” The other boy snaps, flustered, his voice watery.

I immediately turn the burner down to low and turn to face the table just as Dustin puts his face in his hands.

“I’m not crying!” He repeats, frustrated and embarrassed and most definitely upset.

“Hey, hey.” I say gently, bending over next to him. “Dustin, sweetie, what’s the matter?”

The boy says nothing, clearly not able to answer yet lest he burst out in sobs and embarrass himself further.

I rub his back but gently prod him, as any mother would do. “Hmm? Tell me what’s wrong, honey.”

“I w-want m-my mom!” He sobs. “I wanna go home! I don’t even kno-know if sh-she’s okay because I s-sent her out looking for a d-dead cat!”

I look up at the other kids sitting around the kitchen table, confusion written all over my face.

“Um, Dustin’s pet demodog ate his mom’s cat but he lied and told her the cat ran away.” Mike explains. I nod slowly, letting the information sink in.

“I didn't h-have a choice, Mike!" The boy shouts across the table, tears streaming down his face. "I couldn't tell her wh-what happened. What if she g-got hurt last night by the demodogs? It would b-be all my f-f-fault!”

"Okay, okay, sweetie, calm down." I rub my hand up and down his forearm, trying to soothe him before the situation escalates and he wakes up Will and El.

Nancy and Steve, the latter of whom is holding a fresh bag of frozen peas to his face, have appeared in the kitchen. Steve crouches down next to Dustin.

“Hey, hey buddy, what’s the matter?” He asks quietly.

“He’s just a bit worried about his mom, that’s all.” I supply. “Dustin, sweetie, I think your mom is fine but I tell you what - how about we give her a call? Would that make you feel better?”

Dustin, face crumpled, just nods in response.

“Alright, c’mon.” I hold out a hand and he takes it, letting me pull him up from the chair. We walk over to the phone and I take it off the hook, handing it to him. “Go ahead and dial.”

The boy punches in his phone number and lets out a shaky breath as it begins to ring. On the third ring he gets an answer.

“Mom???” His tears immediately stop as overwhelming relief takes over. “No no, I’m still at Will’s house. Uh, yeah, I just wanted to…check on you. Why? Oh, uh…I was worried, on account of Mews. Did you find her? No? Oh, well, I’m sure she’ll turn up. The sleepover was good. Yeah, we played lots of D&D. Um, yeah, I think I’ll actually come home a bit early. Well we finished the campaign and I figured I could help you look for Mews.” He puts his hand over the receiver. “Can Jonathan drive me home?”

“Of course he can.”

“Okay mom, yeah, Jonathan’s gonna drive me. Yeah, I’ll see you soon. Love you. Okay, bye.”

Dustin hangs up the phone and then practically collapses back into his chair, relieved but absolutely drained.

TBC...


End file.
